


i want you to cry (cry for me)

by sugandt



Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28974888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugandt/pseuds/sugandt
Summary: Magilou knows just how to push all of Velvet’s buttons. Luckily for her, Velvet can reciprocate.
Relationships: Velvet Crowe/Magilou
Kudos: 23





	i want you to cry (cry for me)

**Author's Note:**

> just something short for fun, set after mount killaraus and before the final battle. 
> 
> i headcanon that the hot springs are in merchio (not the heavenly steppes), and velvet's arm is still messed up under her bandages. 
> 
> title is from "cry for me" by twice. 
> 
> unedited.

Magilou finds Velvet wandering around the beaches of Yseult, deep into the night when everyone else is asleep. Magilou hasn’t slept well for the past decade, and Velvet only has nightmares. It’s natural for the two of them to mill about at these hours. Velvet stares at the comb in her palm, the way she tends to do when left to her own devices for a moment too long. Magilou wonders how the thing isn’t broken or lost yet, but knows better than to ask, despite the temptation. How she’d love to wind Velvet up, feel her bandaged arm against her windpipe, her fingernails digging into her cheeks, Velvet’s hand fisted in her hair. Magilou steps out from the shadows.

Velvet is sharp where it counts— fox-like eyes always narrowed and clouded, a pointed nose and eyebrows that turn up at the tip, lips twisted into a scowl. But there’s also a particular softness to her, cheeks that haven’t lost their baby fat entirely, a similar jawline, a gentle curve to her ears that Magilou loves to run the tip of her finger over. Velvet’s sensitive, always pushes Magilou away, but does the same to Magilou’s own when she thinks she’s asleep. The blue moonlight softens her edges, and hides the crimson colour of her clothing. Magilou wants nothing more than to take her right there, but what comes out of her mouth says otherwise. Perhaps it’s her own way of asking Velvet to bed.

“Brood a little harder, why don’t you?” croons Magilou, though it lacks bite and her voice is rather quiet. She doesn’t want to wake the townspeople. Evil, terrorizing witch, and all. Even Rokurou and Eleanor should be asleep by now, having shared a meal together a handful of hours ago.

“If I do, you’ll run away crying,” Velvet snarks back, “or, I’ll eat you.”

Magilou grins wickedly, and barks out a laugh— she loves when Velvet threatens her like that. It makes her feel alive. She knows it’s morbid, revels in it, and she sits herself down in the dry sand, cold without the sun beating down on it. 

“I’m so scared,” Magilou says, leans back on her palms, and looks out at the sea, barely illuminated by the moon. Velvet sits down beside her and pockets the comb, scowl mostly gone from her lips. 

“Yeah,” says Velvet, turning her eyes out to the water as well, listening to Magilou’s breathing and the sound of the water hitting the shore. The odor of salt permeates the air, but Magilou’s distinctive scent of raspberries and skin is the only thing Velvet smells. 

After a few minutes of silence, Magilou breaks it. She’s never been good at being quiet, or even small talk, “So. Dying.”

“Huh?” Velvet visibly tenses, fingers instinctively curling into a fist, sand caught in her palms and under her fingernails. 

“You’re going to die soon. I can’t imagine you’re too excited about that,” Magilou’s gaze is fixed forwards, and Velvet can see her lips become a straight line. 

Velvet audibly grimaces, “You don’t know that. But if it’s what it takes to get—“

“Cut it out,” Magilou snaps, “I don’t need to hear your revenge soliloquy again. We both know you’re going to die, and I want to know how it feels. Simple.” 

“I’m a daemon,” Velvet says, tired of repeating the same explanation, “I don’t _feel_ anything.” 

Magilou is struck by her knee-jerk response. To tell Velvet about her own desires to die, how they were so intense that they burned themselves out with their own fire. And now she feels nothing, wall after wall of defense put up, impenetrable and iron and steel. No one is getting in. The gate is locked and Magilou ate the key for dessert. 

“How melodramatic. Taking a page out of Rokurou’s book?” Magilou simpers, demeanor changing instantly, what vulnerability and true emotion she had shown replaced with the teasing and depreciating humour, “Well, you’ll certainly miss terrorizing your dear friend Magilou, hm?” 

“I don’t—“ Velvet turns her head away from Magilou, hiding her expression beneath her fringe, “I don’t care. I won’t miss this life.”

“Sounds to me like those are the words of someone trying to convince herself,” Magilou shrugs, putting on a nonchalant tone, “But what do I know? I’m just a silly little witch.”

“That’s right,” Velvet sighs, “you think that’s all you are.”

“At least I’m not living in the past,” Magilou can’t help herself from saying, only managing to suppress a snicker. 

“You think you can talk to me about living in the past?” Velvet’s fingers twitch on her left hand, a bad habit that Magilou knows to have dire consequences at the best of times, “At least I can actually acknowledge my past. _Magillanica_.”

Magilou allows herself to grin, curling her lips and baring her fangs, but red clouds her vision. In only a moment, she summons a fire mine and with a flick of her fingers, it hurdles towards Velvet. 

Velvet deflects the attack easily, knocking the mine out of the way and towards the water, where it explodes with a quiet sound. She climbs to her feet, towering over Magilou, so close that Magilou would have to move if she wanted to stand up. 

“I’m sorry about what Melchior did to you. Really,” Velvet sighs, “but stop taking it out on me.”

Magilou stares up at her, defiant, speechless. She looks like a child. She feels like a child. Velvet pivots, beginning to walk away. 

“Velvet!” Magilou pushes herself to her feet, digs her heels into the sand and readies her guardian, shouting at Velvet’s retreating figure, “When will you admit that you’re a self-absorbed, self-centered, self-selfish bitch!?”

“When you can admit that it’s something we have in common!” Velvet calls over her shoulder, almost missing the water mine approaching rapidly. This time, she doesn’t have enough time to react, and the mine hits her square in the back. Water soaks her clothes and hair, dripping down her legs and into her boots. The sound of Magilou’s laughter echoing is short lived, as Velvet releases her blade and sprints back to Magilou’s direction. 

Three of Magilou’s guardians rise from the ground, but Velvet uses one to her advantage, jumping from the top of the guardian and landing beside Magilou, who sidesteps with a twirl to avoid Velvet’s blade. 

“Cut it out,” Velvet says through clenched teeth, lunging at Magilou, who dodges her attacks. 

“You don’t really,” Magilou hops off the guardian she used to evade Velvet, “want to hurt me,” she twirls again, this time with a guardian in her hands, “Do you?”

Velvet’s left arm throbs, but only for a moment as it mutates into the daemon arm, the affliction, the battle wound that she wears proudly. Magilou’s response isn’t to run— it never is— but it’s abnormal. Her grin widens, her pupils dilate, and she can’t pay attention to anything else. 

Something flashes in Velvet’s eyes, recognition, understanding, and Magilou’s heart pounds viciously in her chest. Velvet ceases her attacks, but leaves her blade unsheathed. She shakes her left arm once, and the daemonblight is no more, only bandages hiding the glowing scars and burnt flesh. 

“Admit it,” Velvet says, backing Magilou into a beam that holds up the dock, “you want me to hurt you.”

It’s everything Magilou has ever dreamed of, happening, real, coming to life, she bites her cheek, her tongue, her lip, feels her knees threaten to wobble, feels her blood pressure rise. She salivates at the sight of Velvet’s blade so close to her neck, reflecting in the moonlight. She squirms, but not out of discomfort or fear. 

“I could eat you right here,” Velvet threatens, voice nearly a whisper, “it would be so simple. I wonder what a vile, self-loathing witch would taste like.”

Magilou knows Velvet can only taste blood. But she imagines her own blood tasting different. Bitter, or sweet?

“Why don’t you find out?” Magilou challenges. 

“You want,” it’s finally Velvet’s turn to smirk, looking Magilou up and down, her lips, her nose, her cat-like eyes, her slim cheeks, “you want to kiss me.”

Magilou sputters, faltering in place, “Wuh— Huh— Hey! That’s my line!”

“I should have known,” Velvet shakes her head, “you’ve been making it so obvious, and I was... completely oblivious.”

“Velvet!” Magilou would stomp her feet if she could.

“Well,” Velvet says, considering their past few months together, “maybe not _completely_.”

The kiss is more teeth than tongue or lips, and it’s one of the few things in her life that catches Magilou off guard. Velvet has her pressed flush against the beam, locking her in place between her thighs. Magilou’s fingers get lost in the black of Velvet’s hair, inky like the black ocean at night. She can feel the tip of Velvet’s blade, still not back in its gauntlet, brush against her leg. 

“Velvet dear,” Magilou says, nearly breathless, as Velvet runs the tip of her nose down Magilou’s neck, like she’s sniffing out the best place to bite, “are you really going to treat a fellow lady like this? You should at least take me inside.”

Velvet exhales a laugh against Magilou’s skin, sensitive, and leans in close to Magilou’s pointed ear, “No.”

“No?” Magilou cranes her neck away from Velvet, giving her an expression of knit eyebrows and a deep, melodramatic frown. With her free arm that’s not pinning Magilou down, Velvet brushes the stray lock of hair that curls in Magilou’s face out of the way, then pulls her hat off, and lets it fall to the ground. Magilou says nothing, waiting for Velvet to continue, but the sick grin returns. Is she baiting her? Velvet cards her fingers through Magilou’s hair, then roughly grabs it at the base of her neck, and pulls Magilou’s head back, exposing all of her neck. 

“You don’t get to attack me twice, and then ask me to take you to bed,” says Velvet, voice low, “so I’ll tell you how this will go.”

An uncontrollable chill down Magilou’s spine makes her twist and squirm under Velvet’s grasp. Velvet half-smiles, slightly amused at Magilou’s blatant physical reactions. 

“I’m going to fuck you right here,” she releases Magilou’s hair, but grabs her chin, forcing Magilou to look at her directly, “Then I’ll fuck you in my room.” 

“Vel—“

“And then,” Velvet interrupts, “If you’re good, I’ll fuck you in the hot springs in Merchio.” 

“ _Oh_ ,” says Magilou, as Velvet descends upon her neck once again. Velvet finally lifts her arm off Magilou’s clavicle, but wastes no time with fiddling with the belt that holds Magilou’s skirt of books. 

“Tell me it’s okay,” Velvet murmurs against Magilou’s skin, tender bruises already forming— Magilou’s delicate, you know. 

“It’s okay,” Magilou answers instantly, thighs trembling as they beg to part, “but Velvet dear, you may want to reconsider fucking me in a bath of water.”

“How about the inn?” Velvet says, though preoccupied with pulling off Magilou’s sleeves and dropping them to be with her hat. Magilou takes it upon herself to unclip the brooch that holds most of Velvet’s clothing together, watching with glazed eyes as Velvet’s cape pools around her feet. The red scraps that are meant to resemble a top fall down around her hips, exposing Velvet’s breasts, and Magilou’s train of thought derails entirely. 

“Hm?” Velvet asks.

“What?”

“Merchio. The inn?” 

“No,” Magilou shakes her head, “the Shrinechurch.”

“You’re _sick_ ,” Velvet says, finally freeing Magilou of her shorts. She picks her up, Magilou’s legs and arms wrapping around Velvet like an animal, and kisses her until she can’t breathe. 

“Yeah,” Magilou says, feeling two of Velvet’s bare fingers slide into her with ease, as a whine escapes her throat.

“You love it.”


End file.
